


Freaky Friday

by Julieashed



Category: American Assassin (2017), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16036877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julieashed/pseuds/Julieashed
Summary: Stiles was fed up, he didn't like to feel vulnerable, as one of the only humans in the pack of supernaturals he felt that he had nothing to offer. He wanted to be faster, stronger and able to fight. he wanted to be better.Be careful what you wish for, especially when you live in a world with the supernatural. He never thought in his wildest dreams he be dropped in Mitch's Rapp's world!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote loosely with locations and time lines, The aim is more to do with how each character deals with different situations. It has a lot of comedy, violence and action. I hope you enjoy x

Who would have thought something as simple as a wish could turn two lives upside down?

***  
Stiles Stilinski  
Stiles was fed up, he was the only one within the pack that had no supernatural abilities. He was a simple human, no strength, no speed, and little to no fighting skills. Yep he was only human!  
What use would he be if Scott or the rest wasn’t around? Dead! He’d be dead or mangled beyond recognition, so that’s why one night he decided to take matters into his own hands, so he seeked the advice of Deaton.  
“Come on you’re telling me there isn’t one spell you can use to make me at least a bit stronger, or faster?  
Deaton shook his head and smiled at Stiles in a sympathetic manner.  
“Stiles, I can’t help you, because there is no such spell. You should be happy the way that you are young and healthy”  
Stiles crossed his arms in a huff and mumbled in annoyance. “Yeah well if I get my guts ripped out by some feral werewolf I’m not going to be young and healthy. I’d be the teen on social media with hundreds of comments saying RIP, can’t believe a wolf eat him!!  
Deaton hummed and heyed while he was looking over some medical records.  
“Great I’ll just be ignored then!! Everyone else seems to do it!!  
Deaton placed the files down and turned to the melodramatic Stiles “Are you not happy with the life that you have?  
Stiles frowned at the question and mused over it for a moment. “I am, well I guess I am…ok maybe not a hundred percent of the time, I just feel….  
“Unappreciated” Deaton said cutting off Stiles mid - sentence.  
“Yeah I do. I’m hyperactive and I can be annoying, and the amount of times I’ve been told to shut up is in the millions, but I don’t want to be weak, pathetic and ignored. I want to mean something and be useful, I just wish I was different”  
Deaton placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder “be careful what you wish for, we sometimes don’t realise that the grass is not greener on the other side”  
Stiles pulled a face; Deaton just sounded condescending, and was beyond unhelpful.  
“Never mind, I’m gonna go. Let’s hope I don’t get killed on the way to the car!! Stiles flapping his arms overdramatically as he left.  
Deaton smiled “Be careful what you wish for” He said under his breath 

 

***

Mitch Rapp  
Stan threw down files on the table “this is the mission Rapp, don’t screw this up! Listen and follow the fucking orders, do you hear! Or you’re out! I can’t risk everything because of your personal vendetta”  
Mitch lifted up the files and read through them ignoring Stan’s venom.  
“We leave in 07 hundred, get your shit together and memorise the mission!!!  
Mitch nodded, he grabbed the files and left going to his sleeping quarters. He lay down for a brief moment pulling out a faded picture of his parents and one of Katrina. No family, no friends. All he had was the job.  
He was angry all the time, which was his down fall. Aggression, behavioural problems has always been present. Even before the death of his parents Mitch was a problem, always in fights and expelled from various schools. The only one who grounded him was Katrina. And now she was gone!  
He had to get in the mind set, he had to go over the mission, and the trip to Istanbul was to intercept a buyer that was connected to a weapons grade nuclear material.  
Mitch wanted to put a bullet through the guy’s head!! But that wasn’t the mission!  
He wanted to throw himself into the job, what else has he got, an old lacrosse bag with very few belongings, Scars that were left behind after getting shot twice and his constant aching body from excessive work outs . And no one that cared if he lived or died.  
Mitch pushed himself to the limit, and beyond. He stayed up until 4am reading and memorising every aspect. Between reading he did pull ups and push ups. His muscles ached in the process, but Mitch liked to stay fit and it was evident in his build.  
When he did finally go to sleep he was ripped out of it again by a banning on his door.  
“Get your lazy ass up Rapp! Stan’s voice boomed on the other side of the door.  
Mitch groaned in irritation. “Yes sir” he said groggily. He stretched feeling the pop and crack of his joints and muscles. He started his routine for the morning and got ready to fly out to turkey……

15 hours later Mitch arrived in the city of Istanbul. He didn’t feel a hundred percent on the plane and as he sat in the café he felt even worse, sick even. Stan was talking into the ear piece but Mitch couldn’t concentrate, he stood up to sit at another table to see if he could shift the fuzzy feeling, but his gut lurched and he felt his body go numb, Mitch wasn’t one to feel scared, but he did. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He was no longer in control of his body, he stood again and a white flash blinded him, the last thing he heard was screaming and glass breaking. 

 

***  
Stiles Stilinski  
Annoyed at him-self for even considering going to Deaton, Stiles sat in Roscoe and sighed, maybe if he went for self-defence classes, or even if someone showed him how to use a weapon other than a baseball bat. If he was just a taller or even had some sort of muscle maybe he wouldn’t feel so defenceless. He yawned and started up his jeep, making his way back home.  
He put on the radio for some music, but all he got was white noise. He banged it a few times to see if that would work but with no avail. Stiles grumbled at the jeep, the damn thing was definitely on its last legs. Roscoe was a pensioner by now.  
As Stiles drove on down the road, he started to feel a tingle down his spine, his shifted uncomfortably, but the feeling intensified.  
Then a flash of light beamed through his windshield blinding him. He slammed on the breaks. An over whelming dropping feeling came over him which made him feel nauseated, and then he couldn’t feel his body.  
He couldn’t catch his breath and the all of a sudden……..

BANG, BANG, BANG!!!! Screaming and glass breaking!!! Stiles was now surrounded by chaos and scenes that were unfamiliar. He stood with a gun in his hand and a dead man at his feet, blood pooling underneath the stranger on the ground. He yelped and shifted back knocking over a table with a crash.  
There was more gun fire and people were now pushing and shoving each other in sheer panic. Stiles started to hyperventilate, tears stinging his eyes.  
“RAPP!!! WHAT THE HELL!! GET OUT!!! The voice shouted in Stiles’ ear.  
In panic Stiles ran “oh my god, oh my god!!! Stiles screamed, he was terrified and confused, everything was happening too quickly for him to process.  
He collided into a woman whom was standing outside the café with her children, knocking them to the ground. “Oh my god I’m sorry I’m so sorry”  
Stiles then tripped dropping the gun he still held in his hand awkwardly and landed flat on his face. He held his arms over his head in protection from the gun fire. “This is a dream, this is a dream, this isn’t real you’re dreaming, you’re just dreaming! Stiles repeated to him-self.  
Stan ran over and grabbed Stiles by his t-shirt collar pulling him to his feet.  
“WHAT THE FUCK RAPP!! Get on your fucking feet we have been made you stupid son of a bitch!!!  
“Wait, where am I? What’s happening? Oh my god…please I don’t know who Rapp is. Who’s been made, why are people shooting? Oh my god. Just what is going on? 

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its all fun an games until you are an Assassin that's not an Assassin.  
> Mitch and Stiles are not exactly the same people!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i enjoy writing this, hope it makes some of you chuckle.

I like to dream yes, yes, right between my sound machine  
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night  
Any place it goes is right  
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here

Well, you don't know what we can find  
Why don't you come with me little girl  
On a magic carpet ride  
***  
Mitch Rapp/Stiles Stilinski  
***  
Mitch heard the lyrics of Steppenwolf - Magic Carpet Ride blast through the radio. He blinked once, twice, three times. Where the fuck was he? He breathed in deeply; he sat there frozen for a moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t recognise anything around him. ‘Drugged, must have been put here!  
The music was too loud and distracting so he started to fumble with the dials. Turning it off finally he could now hear himself think.  
He searched the vehicle for any information to his whereabouts; he pulled out papers, receipts, and candy bars which were now sticky and melted. He grimaced in disgust. Mitch fumbled with the sticky receipts, but the print was smudged, he couldn’t make out the words. He thumped his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. He caught a glimpse of a reflection in the rear view mirror. Mitch nearly ripped the mirror off and stared in shock at the face that looked back at him. His eyes widened, a kid no older than 17 looked back, his face was thin, no stubble in sight and skin pale. His hair was short and spiked in a messy sort of way; he didn’t know who was looking back at him. He swallowed dryly not knowing what to think. “This can’t be fucking real!! His voice was barley above a whisper. “ID, where the fuck is the ID? He pulled his pants pockets inside out; no ID just chewing gum, a condom and a cell phone, a crappy moto x.  
Mitch pressed the power button a few times but the cell was dead. He threw the cell off the dash board in anger.  
Mitch Rapp doesn’t freak out, NO!  
Mitch Rapp is calm and collected. Except that he is in mid freak out.  
He swung the jeep door open so hard that it nearly ripped off; the door was already held together with duct tape, he jumped out and nearly fell to his knees. He gulped in the fresh air trying to calm his self. He couldn’t fathom what was happening. He analysed many different case scenario’s, he could be drugged and having hallucinations, or he could be dead. Maybe he died.  
A car pulled up on the opposite end of the road, Mitch stood up straight trying to compose his self.  
“Hey, kid car trouble? A middle aged man called out of his rolled down window. He had thin brown hair that was greying at the sides, stubble and a rounded face.  
Mitch approached the vehicle with caution; he patted down the side of his pants looking for a weapon out of habit. He stayed a small distance away, he didn’t know what kind of situation he was in and he was defenceless. “Where am I?  
“Beacon hills kid, you lost?  
Mitch bit his bottom lip, with worry on his brow he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. ‘That’s a fucking understatement’ he thought.  
“Do you have a working cell phone sir?  
“Yeah, hang on” the man shifted reaching into his pocket for his cell; he reached his hand out of the window.  
“Here” he gestured towards Mitch.  
Mitch moved forward and held his hand out to take the phone when the man grabbed his arm with ferocity. Mitch pulled back trying to yank his arm out of the man’s grasp, he swung his left arm forward; his closed fist cracked the man in the temple.  
He still didn’t release his hold on Mitch, instead he growled, his eyes turning white and he bared his sharp teeth. Mitch eyes widened in shock, he made a second attempt at punching. CRACK!!  
Mitch used all his force and he definitely broke a bone in the man’s face. The man hissed in pain, still holding on to Mitch’s arm, he bit down hard gaining a guttural scream from Mitch before he realised him. Mitch stumbled back clutching his right form arm, blood pooling around his fingers. Before he could advance his attacker, the car sped off leaving track marks behind in its wake. 

Stiles Stilinski/Mitch Rapp

***  
Stiles stood in a hotel room hands shaking as Stan spewed venom at him, he was frozen in shock. He didn’t know what to think.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you Rapp? You pussy. Screaming like a bitch, you piece of horse shit”  
“Wait dude you don’t understand something has…….  
Stan pulled a face, scrunching up his nose, he was furious. Before Stiles could finish his sentence Stan punched him full force in the gut. Stiles buckled over gagging, the wind was knocked out of him, and he gasped in agony.  
“What did you call me? DUDE!!! Fucking DUDE!!! Get up, come on, UP!!!  
Stiles tried to stand; he gripped on to the couch next to him to help pull himself up. Stan smacked him in the face; Stiles fell back against the couch clutching his face and stomach groaning in pain.  
“Please…stop.. Stiles pleaded. Something is wrong, or went *cough* wrong, I’m not supposed to *cough* be here”  
Stan raised his fist again when Stiles yelped covering his face in anticipation for the impact.  
Stan froze taking in Stiles cowering on the floor, he lowered his fist slowly. “Get up, get yourself cleaned. I’m calling Irene. We need to reassess!! Don’t leave this room!! That’s an order or I’ll make sure you won’t walk again if you do leave”  
Stiles nodded, not making any eye contact.  
Stan slammed the door as he left. He stood in the hall and sighed; he pulled out his phone and dialled Irene, within two rings she answered.  
“Stan!  
“We have a problem with Rapp; I think he needs a psyche evaluation, the mission in Istanbul was a nightmare, he was screaming, he repeated oh my god, then fell over, lay in the middle of the street in a foetal potion and cried”  
“You know it could be PTSD, you seen the beach footage Stan”  
“Oh really Irene, because I didn’t know PTSD made you forget how to use a fucking gun, and he keeps calling me dude!!!  
***  
Stiles pulled his self-off the floor and shuffled towards the bathroom. He turned on the shower and when he looked in the mirror Stiles took in the most horrendous sight. His face was unrecognisable.  
“Oh my god, I’m old and haggard looking, oh no what’s with the hippie hair do!!! Oh my face, I’m like 30, I’m like the crypt keeper”  
He gripped on the side of the sink, hyperventilating.  
He started to count his fingers. 1-2-3-4-5.  
“What is happening to me? He slid down the tiles holding his head in his hands. He took in a deep breath. “Ok, ok Stiles; you know about the supernatural, it’s obvious that Deaton screwed me on this, just pick yourself up and call Scott, He’ll come to turkey, yep he’ll defo travel half way across the world to pick up a homeless looking man”  
Stiles stood up now realising he was melting in this ungodly heat; he took off his t-shirt and looked down. “woooooahhhh, holy shit I’m buff. Yessssss, oh I mean nooooo. I need to sort this out and I just realised I’m talking to myself”


End file.
